


In the Catalogue of Common Things

by Cherith



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Age Difference, Drinking, F/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-19 08:18:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherith/pseuds/Cherith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern Day AU.  Professor Teagan Guerrin has a very set idea for how things in his life are supposed to be.  Like the fact that his time to fall in love is long past.  Bethany Hawke has been his TA for the last four years and now she’s about to graduate.  Circumstances find both of them in the same bar one night two months before graduation, and long harbored attractions come to light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Day is Gone and All Its Sweets Are Gone!

**Author's Note:**

> I owe a huge debt of thanks to minorearth, who not only tackled the ginormous job of moderating the Dragon Age Big Bang for us, but also helped spawn my entire story idea. Without her, this story would not exist. She constantly fosters my love of Teagan and I owe her a lot more than this story for that. <3 
> 
> I also want to thank my two wonderful artists: meagkhan and scarele who made such awesome things to go with this story. I know it’s not everyone’s idea of an adorable pairing and it means a lot that they chose me to art for. 
> 
> Lastly, but not least, I want to thank my wonderful beta tklivory who spent a lot of time correcting all of my misplaced punctuation. I really appreciate all the hard work she put into making sure my story looked presentable.
> 
>  **Link to Art by Meagkhan:** [[here](http://alucifer.tumblr.com/post/36364289795/hi-hello-i-drew-this-for-cheriths-dragon-age)] (NSFW)  
>  **Link to Art by Scarele:** [[here](http://scarele.tumblr.com/post/36379918541)]

  
**The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!**   
_The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!_  
Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast,  
Warm breath, light whisper, tender semitone,  
Bright eyes, accomplished shape, and lang'rous waist!  
Faded the flower and all its budded charms,  
Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,  
Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,  
Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise!  
Vanished unseasonably at shut of eve,  
When the dusk holiday—or holinight—  
Of fragrant-curtained love begins to weave  
The woof of darkness thick, for hid delight;  
But, as I've read love's missal through today,  
He'll let me sleep, seeing I fast and pray.  
 **~John Keats~**   


**In the Catalogue of Common Things**

From the window in his office, the spring afternoon looked inviting. His last class for the day was finished and Teagan considered walking home to enjoy the few free hours of daylight he had to himself. His TA, Bethany, had already finished grading papers for the next day’s class and with finals and graduation just around the corner, there was little he needed to prepare. It would be pleasant to enjoy the weather while he could, before the devastating heat of summer arrived and he was left working with his brother on planning for the fall semester.

As if conjured by the thought of skipping out on work, Eamon knocked on his office door. 

“Ah, Teagan. I’m glad to have caught you.” Eamon’s smile was polite for a shark, all teeth and dual-motives. “I hoped to talk to you about tonight’s get-together.”

Teagan sighed. He hadn’t exactly forgotten the event, but an hour at a bar with other faculty members was not his idea of a good time. He shook his head and then reached down to grab his briefcase. 

“Sorry, Eamon. I wasn’t planning on going.”

“I’d like to try and change your mind.” Eamon ran his hands over the front of his vest, smoothing it down and then tugging at the bottom. He avoided looking at Teagan, even while his self-important presence filled the room. “School is almost over, and it’s good for the teachers to have some time to let off steam together.”

“Are you going?” It was a subtle dig and Teagan felt petty as soon as the words left his mouth. He knew very well that despite his brother’s position as Dean of Students, he wouldn’t be seen in a dingy bar swapping student stories over a two dollar bottle of swill; he had Teagan for that. 

His brother chuckled. “Oh no. Isolde and I are celebrating tonight. It’s our anniversary; you understand.” 

Teagan did understand. He was unmarried and childless: when the three of them went out together, Eamon was often mistaken for his father and Isolde for his wife, rather than as his brother and sister-in-law. They weren’t much alike, other than their chosen academic professions. And while he loved History, he may never have gone into teaching had it not been at his brother’s behest. Eamon exploited it when he could, like now, when he wanted not just for Teagan to be his stand-in at a faculty event, but to push him into an uncomfortable situation, one that he was sure Eamon thought was ‘good for him’.

He also understood that the anniversary of Eamon and Isolde’s wedding wasn’t for another week. The timing was indeed, convenient.

With a nod he said, “Alright, Eamon. Congratulations to you and Isolde.” 

Eamon looked up at him, clearly pleased. “So can I count on you to go tonight?” He patted Teagan’s shoulder. “That’s a good man. It’s only a few hours, a couple of drinks. It’s good for you to get out and make friends with the other teachers. You’re a tenured professor, brother! They’ll be pleased to have you.”

He raised an eyebrow, but kept his mouth shut. Whatever his fellow teachers were, or would be, he doubted they would be excited to see him. It wasn’t as though they were all good friends. Most of them took a side: either they wanted to use him to get on Eamon’s good-side (only to be inevitably disappointed when they learned it didn’t work); or they hated him either for being tenured at his age or for the presumed nepotism that had gotten him there. Not that he much cared; he didn’t mind if they didn’t like him. He could keep them all locked safely away in the mental box labeled: Teachers, University of Kirkwall. It kept his life neat, tidy and in control.

***

The event had gone much as Teagan had expected it to. Dull, yet polite conversation with a cross-section of University faculty that had as little interest in his life as he had in theirs.

Teagan hadn't expected to stay once the teachers started to disperse, but there was a sort of peace and quiet to be found amidst a crowd of strangers, and he found his on a barstool with a tumbler of whiskey in front of him. He didn't bother with goodbyes, just found his way to a dark corner of the bar with an empty stool and kept his head and shoulders bowed to avoid notice. He nursed his drink and watched the crowd: an interesting cross-section of University students ( or those that wished they were), and those that never wanted to be (yet couldn’t find their way out of town). He had a good head for names, but less so for faces, and while he assumed one or two of the college-aged crowd were students of his, there was only one he recognized.

It was strange to see Bethany Hawke in a setting outside the confines of his office, or even the history building. What was more strange to his mind was that she would be at a bar: not because she didn’t have the right or ability to be in one, but because so often he had to remind himself she was a student, making it easy to forget she was of the appropriate age. The idea skewed his perfectly organized mental boxes in which students were categorized in his memory. He supposed that’s what he got for showing up at a faculty mixer in a bar so close to the campus. Or for staying after to enjoy a drink on his own in relative peace and quiet.

Of the box labeled “Teacher’s Assistants” (which included folders for the University of Kirkwall, Redcliffe College and Rainesfere Community College), Bethany Hawke was chief among them. She’d been with him for four years, longer than any of his other assistants. He would venture that she could teach the majority of his classes in her sleep and grade papers and tests more efficiently than he ever could. He’d spent years organizing everything in his life just how he liked it; she had never shaken it up, never changed it, and somehow it was still better for her efforts. 

He watched her from the other side of the room, two fingers of whiskey in front of him, leaning forward with his elbows on the bar and dark jacket stretching across his shoulders. A reminder that he was sorely in need of new jackets, but a tenured professor saved money by keeping the old, worn clothes instead of splurging on new ones when it meant more cash for the day he would be able to leave. It was another thing that Teagan did sometimes just to spite his brother, who always felt the need for the most proper and best kept suits. The students didn’t care what the Dean wore anymore than they cared about his worn out suits. In fact, he felt most of them expected a history professor to show up in tweed jackets with leather elbow patches and worn threads poking out from the bottom. So he did.

There was a laugh from Bethany’s side of the bar and he looked up to see her waving at a dark-skinned woman on the arm of a much taller and very broad shouldered young college student who looked to be a footballer. The woman touched Bethany’s hand for a brief moment before she waved again - a quick waggle of her fingers - and made for the exit. 

After the woman disappeared from view, Bethany turned around, apparently searching the crowd for someone else. Teagan turned his head down and stared into the glass in his hands. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be noticed, but it was easier if he didn’t engage with students outside of school. He could put her back into the very meticulously organized box of Teacher’s Assistants he had in his time at the University of Kirkwall, and the rest of the night could be forgotten, including Bethany Hawke. Especially Bethany Hawke.

Carefully, he peeked up from below a fall of his hair, neon lights from the bar hiding the grey streaks he knew he was gaining from this year’s batch of students. He didn’t see Bethany where she’d been last and he sat up a bit straighter and lifted his glass to his lips for another sip.

“Professor Guerrin?” There was a light touch on his arm and Teagan turned to find the fingers at his elbow belonged to Bethany Hawke.

He nodded. “Good evening, Bethany.” He cleared his throat, trying for his teacher’s voice. _Keep it professional. Distanced._ “How are you this evening?”

“I’m well. Thank you, Professor. I was here with some friends.” She smiled for a moment and then she tilted her head and her brow creased as though she was trying to remember something. Teagan had seen that look on her face when she was grading, trying to do the percentages in her head instead of breaking out his ancient calculator. “Are you here often, Professor? I can’t ever remember seeing you here before.”

Teagan almost chuckled, but turned his head away to hide the smile. He used the moment to put his glass down on the bar. 

“No,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Faculty event. I just stayed after for -” he tipped his glass - “a drink.”

“Oh, yes. I think I remember that on your calendar. I just... I guess I didn’t realize it was here. Or that you were planning to attend.” Bethany bit her lip and then turned to look back out into the bar. “Is it over? I don’t see any other teachers I recognize.”

Teagan nodded. “I think most of them went home already.”

He had questions for her as well: _Was she here often? How long had she been here? Who was the woman to whom she’d said goodbye?_ But that wasn’t distanced. Those were the questions of better acquaintances. So he just smiled and looked at her and tried not to be distracted by the way her lip curled from under her teeth, or the way her hair reflected the bar lights, a halo of orange and pink.

Bethany nodded and glanced behind her once more. Her shoulders slumped and after a deep breath, she pulled out the barstool next to him. “Mind if I sit here a moment? I’d like to get a drink and I think a friend of mine is somewhere over there-” she waved a hand at a dark corner near the small stage at the front of the bar- “she’s forever wandering off and I want to make sure she gets home okay.”

“You came with a group?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He was curious, but he didn’t need to know. Didn’t want to know. Knowing meant _knowing_ about Bethany as more than just a TA. He sighed and gave her a half smile, hoping for forgiveness for prying. “Sorry, it’s none of my business,” he said.

She grinned and gave a shrug. “No, it’s totally okay. Yeah. Just a few girlfriends. One left, and one is... well, she likes meeting new people- _always curious_ about everything. I think she’s talking to the band.” Bethany rolled her eyes and Teagan wanted to chuckle at the way the expression made her seem so much younger. The thought was a good reminder to keep it professional, reel the conversation back in.

“I don’t even think she knows how it seems when she talks to people. She’s always asking questions and going on about things...” Bethany stopped and put a hand to her mouth with a shy dip of her head. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling. I don’t mean to...”

With that motion, Teagan realized that she was nervous and perhaps also uncomfortable. She was alone in a bar, with only her professor to keep her company. He wasn’t sure if he should be flattered that she had chosen to sit with him, or concerned that she might not have anyone looking after her the way she seemed to be looking after her friend.

Concern won out, even if it meant stretching the boundaries of his mental Bethany box a little further. “Will you both be able to make it back okay?” He bit his lip from inquiring further, grateful for facial hair that could hide the movement.

“Oh, sure!” She waved a hand and then ran a hand through her hair. “Campus isn’t so far, and Merrill-” she motioned her head towards the stage- “that’s my friend. Anyway, she’s a student too, and we’re used to walking everywhere in town.”

Teagan nodded, not sure what else to say. He lifted his glass and downed the rest of the drink inside and then hesitated, not sure if he was ready to leave or to order a second. The latter sounded better and it was something he would’ve done without a second thought if Bethany hadn’t joined him. But there she was, pleasant smile and hair curling around her face, her blue eyes sparkling with mirrored reflections of the lights all around them. If he looked at her too long, he felt the breath holding up in his throat, unwilling to push through his mouth, or to draw new air into his lungs. Seeing her outside the office not only threatened his carefully dedicated separations of students and teachers and people he knew that had nothing to do with school altogether, but also the quiet bachelor status to which he’d resigned. In his younger years he’d chased and been chased, but had learned to be happy alone and bury himself in lesson plans and grading papers. Still, a beautiful woman like Bethany tugged at the longing he kept locked away.

He decided on a second drink and waved the bartender over with a twenty dollar bill. He ordered his drink and turned to Bethany, with the realization of how rude it must look to order a drink while she sat there without one. 

“Bethany, can I buy you a drink while you wait for your friend?”

She smiled and her head bowed again, a sweet sort of motion that spoke not to nerves but deference. “That would be nice, thank you.” She turned to the bartender, a gruff old man wearing a t-shirt with cut-off sleeves to show off muscled arms. “Vodka Martini please? Twist of orange, Grey Goose, if you have it.”

The bartender raised an eyebrow, took Teagan’s money and wandered away to make their drinks. Bethany leaned forward and put her hand on Teagan’s arm, “Thank you, Professor.”

Somewhere deep inside, he sighed at her touch, at her smile, at the cracked box that had been: TA 2012, Bethany Hawke, History Major. “Teagan. Please. If I’m buying you a drink, you should be able to call me Teagan.” 

“Alright... Teagan,” she said just as the bartender returned with their drinks and Teagan’s change. They both reached out for the drinks at the same time and Teagan washed away the feel of her hand on his arm with the sting of whiskey in his throat. She moved her hand as she took her glass, but the feeling was still there- a phantom weight on his jacket, warm fingertips that slid softly away.

He looked over at Bethany as the warm liquid settled in his belly. She was a little too close; he could see the way her blouse hung loose and allowed for a view of lace edging that looked blue as far as he could tell. He felt like a lecherous old man even considering the color of her bra, let alone having to tamp down the urge to lean forward to see more. Clearly, she wasn’t shy around him. _After four years, why would she be?_ Still he pulled away a little, putting some space- some breathing room- between them. With it, Teagan drew in a deep breath and looked down at the bar.

“Professor... I mean- Teagan,” Bethany said, and he could hear the beginning of a question in her voice.

He turned without raising his head to look at her, the tumbler of whiskey still in his hand. Teagan wanted to close his eyes, to let the alcohol settle in his system and allow the heat and the calm that came with it to spread through him, but with Bethany there, he didn’t have the moment to spare. And then there was the distraction of Bethany licking her lips as she prepared to ask whatever it was that was on her mind. He tried not to pay too close of attention to the way her tongue flicked over her lips.

Bethany leaned in and placed a hand on his shoulder again. “That’s strange to say... Teagan.” With a chuckle, Bethany waved her other hand as if to bat away the oddness of calling him by first name without a title. Her chest rose with a deep breath and she began again. “Teagan, I was wondering...”

“Bethany! Beth!” 

Whatever Bethany had been about to ask him was lost as a woman bumped into Bethany’s arm. Teagan’s disappointment was only momentary and replaced by the far more titillating feeling of Bethany’s hand skidding over his chest as she swayed with the impact of her friend’s arrival. Her hand caught the lapel of his jacket, and, as he took a breath to steady himself, Bethany pulled away and focused on her friend. 

The woman, Merrill he assumed, was wearing a torn up band t-shirt and holey jeans, with rope sandals. Her black hair was cropped short and it stuck up in every direction. Teagan couldn’t tell if the look was purposeful or not. Merrill was breathing heavily and even though he didn’t know her and the lighting in the bar was strange, it was obvious she was excited; her cheeks were flush and green eyes sparkled. 

“Merrill?” Bethany gave Teagan a quick apologetic look as she reeled back on her stool and grabbed the woman to steady herself. “Merrill, what’s wrong?” 

The woman gulped in a deep breath and shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong!” Merrill hopped on her tip-toes, gathering a few looks from nearby patrons.

Teagan leaned into the bar in an attempt to withdraw from the attention. He couldn’t take his eyes from Bethany, as the concern on her face relaxing into a sort of amused frustration. 

“Then what’s happened?” Bethany asked as she took her hand back and folded both into her lap.

“The band! Oh, Bethy, there’s a party at the Chanter Devon House!” Merrill talked so quickly it was hard to make everything out through her excitement. “When the set is over in a little while they’re going to go over there and play.” 

Teagan found himself paying closer attention to the conversation than he meant to, leaning forward again to pick up all the words. He didn’t have any part in the conversation and though Bethany had seemed apologetic when Merrill had appeared, it looked as though both women had forgotten he was even present. Merrill looked like a typical college student, and in contrast Bethany looked mature and composed. Reason told him that’s exactly what she was; he’d had four years to watch her mature into the woman before him. She’d been his TA for as long as she’d been in school, and when she graduated in two months, he wasn’t sure what he’d do without her. 

In the lights of the club, nodding with a steady calm and an easy smile for her friend, Bethany seemed more mature than he had ever considered her. 

Merrill flailed excitedly, nearly dancing in place, sandals scooting easily on the cement floor. “They said I could come, and you could come too if you want! They told me to invite whoever I wanted. It’s going to be so much fun, Bethy! There’s so many people in that house, maybe I could talk to someone about pledging in the fall?” Merrill waved her hands and then covered her face, fingers stretched as though she couldn’t contain the thought. Through her fingers she pleaded. “Bethany, do you think they’ll let me? Oh I don’t even know what to think!”

“Merrill,” Bethany’s voice was just loud enough to be heard over the general buzz of the crowd, but the effort to be soothing was there. “Merrill, calm down. Breathe. How much have you had to drink?” 

“Nothing! I swear, I’ve just been over there talking to the band. They left to get ready for their set and I saw you and came over here. I hope you’ll go with me!”

Bethany nodded and Teagan glanced towards the stage where indeed the band was plucking at guitars and there the arrhythmic timbre of drums sounded as someone bumped into them. He sighed, feeling far too old for whatever loud and underdeveloped talent had just walked on stage. As he looked back to Bethany, he heard her whispering something to Merrill, who had started to calm down enough for Bethany to have put a hand on each of the smaller woman’s shoulders.

Their eyes met over Merrill’s head and she gave him another apologetic smile and mouthed, “sorry”. She had nothing to be sorry for but Teagan appreciated the sentiment and gave her a smile back to say that he understood. He offered a small gesture so she knew to take the time she needed with her friend to get everything under control. From the way Bethany handled her, he guessed that she must have to do that sort of thing often- keep her friends together, safe and intact.

“Alright, Merrill. I’m not letting you go to the Chi House alone. We’ll go together as soon as they finish with the set.” Bethany smiled weakly at her friend and Teagan saw the concession in her face and the set of her shoulders.

Slowly, it dawned on him that he had seen that look on her before. Resignation was a state that he had seen on her many times over the last four years. _There it is,_ he thought at the sigh in her voice. He’d kept her in that box for so long- the one that told him not to think about his students outside of class- that he’d never wondered about that side of her. He’d never really bothered to ask and while he knew some people would think it stemmed from a lack of interest or empathy, it didn’t. He just liked to know where everyone stood.

Tonight, those walls were being battered by the burn of whiskey and the thrum of guitars. When Merrill bobbed her head excitedly and ran off into the crowd, headed for the stage, Teagan found himself reaching over and briefly putting a hand on Bethany’s elbow. 

“That’s a nice thing you did. Agreeing to go with her,” he said. “Is she... is she always like that?” 

Bethany nodded, meeting his eyes from under a tilted gaze, up through thick, dark lashes. If circumstances had been different, and she not his TA, he might have thought the look intentional. Seductive, even. 

She put her hand on the bar near his glass, where his other hand rested. Her fingertips were only a breath apart from his as if completing some invisible circle between them. Teagan couldn’t tell if it was their hands she found interesting, or the floor. But he knew what had his attention, and it wasn’t the dark, dirty floor of the bar. There was a lump in his throat that he tried to coax words past, but the best he could do was swallow it down and wait for her to look up again. She did, with another sigh and what he could tell was a half-hearted smile. 

“She’s not. It’s just...” She waved her other hand and shook her head as if to shoo a thought away.

“You do things like that a lot?” He moved his head to catch her eyes and when they met his, he felt a wave of compulsion to put his hand on hers. He fought it by moving his hand away completely, sliding it down his thigh. The rough texture of his trousers rid him of the itch to draw her hand in his. 

When she didn’t answer he cleared his throat and filled the silence. “Help your friends, I mean. Seems like she looks up to you a little.” He nodded in the direction Merrill had run off. “Like you’re the...”

“...Responsible one,” she finished for him with a nod and a sigh. “That’s me. Always the responsible one, the quiet one... the one that has to study hard and make good grades while...” Bitterness was only second to the sadness in her voice. Her words trailed off and the silence was short-lived as a guitar chord ripped through the background music and rattled the glasses on the bar. 

The drums came quickly after and Teagan watched Bethany shake off whatever she’d been about to say. They shared an awkward smile and he turned back to his empty glass, waving his hand at the bartender for another. 

For a moment, with his eyes closed and the devastating blare of the band pounding his ears, he was able to put Bethany out of his mind. He found the file in his head with her name and closed her away inside, mysterious smiles and low-cut blouses and all. 

When the music started in earnest, he found it less grating than he’d expected. It wasn’t loud, though the speakers clearly favored the guitars and the heavy drums over the vocals. He watched Bethany’s hand tap against her thigh in time with the beat, allowed his gaze to follow the line of her arm up, sweeping over her chest to her throat, exposed due to the tilt of her head tilted as she watched the band. She smiled and Teagan turned to follow her line of sight. Merrill was already bouncing in the crowd, hands cupped around her mouth to hoot and scream her appreciation with the others in front of the stage. 

For a brief second Teagan wondered if somehow, given the chosen venue for the faculty event, this had been the reason Eamon had wanted him to attend: first, to force Teagan to engage with other teachers in inane conversations, and then be subjected to the trilling of youth. It was everything he worked to avoid. He engaged teachers at school, students in class or his office and left the space for social companions empty. 

As he looked at Bethany, a thought crossed his mind, unbidden but suddenly quite welcome: graduation was in less than two months. 

He considered all the times he’d found himself staring at her for no particular reason. He’d avert his eyes, uncertain what about her he found so compelling. If he unpacked all the memories of her, it was those moments that he had tucked away:

The times she came to class dressed as though she belonged behind the lectern, instead of him. The times she read aloud while he worked - the sound of her voice was more seductive than relaxing. The times she chewed thoughtfully on the end of a pen while she graded papers and his gaze was continually drawn to the shape of her lips. 

It was easy to remember where she belonged in his categorizations of people when they were in his office, surrounded by papers and books and the possibility of interrupting students during his office hours. Teagan realized that not only was the box labeled “Bethany Hawke” full of memories of the papers she had written or the work she had done but also those softer, quiet moments when she was more than merely a student.

In the bar, her dark hair haloed by neon lights, her expression pensive and no less beautiful for the creases in her brow, Teagan recognized her for what he would like her to be. It was a strange feeling and he carded a hand through the loose waves of his hair as he tried to figure out exactly what he was supposed to do with that longing.

Bethany, oblivious to him as she watched Merrill in the crowd, tapped her toes and fingers to the sound of the band. He smiled and ducked his head, turning back to the bar with a deep breath. He sternly chided himself with the thought that a woman of her age and beauty would want nothing of an anti-social professor wearing worn, decade old clothes. He shook his head and took another drink, unsure of whether he should excuse himself for the evening or not. Things were certainly easier when everyone feel neatly into their neatly labeled boxes.

“Professor?” Bethany put her hand on his arm and shook him from his thoughts. She was leaning in, and at some point while he’d been turned away from the band, it felt like her chair had moved closer. If he turned his head (and he did) he could smell her perfume- sweet like roses, or honeysuckle, or sunshine. She smiled at him with something like concern crinkling her brow. 

Teagan felt much too warm in his jacket after the drinks he’d had to be able to easily deal with tightness in his chest at how close Bethany was to him. An inch or two more and his arm would brush against her breasts at the angle she faced him, and his eyes strayed down, betraying him. 

“Teagan?” She tilted her head and the motion drew his gaze back up, and he stretched his lips into a hazy, crooked sort of smile.

She was close enough to kiss, close enough to pull into his lap, and he stretched out a lazy, “Yes?” as struggled not to reach an arm around her waist.

As if she had read his mind (and maybe she had) she closed the distance between them, planting a chaste kiss on his lips. As she pulled away enough to gauge his reaction, Bethany pulled her bottom lip in with her teeth, and though he knew uncertainty when he saw it on her, he found it attractive. 

He stared at her, stunned- he had not be subtle enough in his kindness or lingering looks. Her kiss was sweet, tangy from the alcohol, and full of trouble. He could not admit that he did not like the idea of returning her kiss. He had tried to remain distant, he usually was good at that: distance. _Usually._ But he thought that, perhaps the lack of distance: the small touches, the looks he read as seductive, had been purposeful on her part. (And not so unbelievably, on his part too.) The idea thrilled him in a way he hadn’t expected.

Bethany opened her mouth and said, “I’m sorry-”

But Teagan leaned in and kissed away whatever was left of the words in her mouth, giving in to a moment he wasn’t sure he’d ever have again. When she opened her lips to him, and his tongue glided over hers, tasting faintly of the citrus from her drink. He felt more than heard the hum of pleasure that she released. With that sound, he gave way to the rest of his hesitation and moved his arms to wrap around her waist, pulled her close so she was tippy-toed on the middle rung on her barstool. 

He lost track of the time they spent locked together, lips pressed together and lost in their own little world. Her hands wrapped in the lapels of his jacket and slid down the front of his shirt, ran through his hair, or tightened around his waist. His held her close, slid up her back, lifted her chin, curled at the base of her neck, or stroked a thumb over her cheek. She felt good in his arms, warm and soft, and he let out a contented sigh when they broke apart for a breath.

“Oh.” Bethany fluttered her hands awkwardly as she leaned back. “I didn’t mean- that is I hope-” she shook her head- “I’m sorry.” She patted his jacket down where she’d grabbed at it.

Teagan smiled and his hands were slow to let her go, sliding down over her thighs. He shook his head as he finally pulled away completely. “Don’t be.”

He didn’t know what else to say, and she seemed as awkward as he felt. It was a moment, and it had passed and he took enough breaths to calm the timpani of his heartbeat. Letting her go was hard, but he nodded to himself thinking that it was the right thing to do. If it was only a momentary lapse, a moment brought on by decent music and dim lights and shared drinks, it was a moment he could store away easily. I shouldn’t have mattered how much more he wanted, or how parts of him stirred, and he ached to hold her close again. They were right to stop. 

There were a few loud screams of “encore” from the pit near the stage. The band, _Varric and the Biancas_ had already left the stage. When Bethany and Teagan turned towards the sound of the crowd, Merrill was already heading their way. 

The moment had passed.

“Beth...” Merrill pleaded as she approached, “can we go now? I want to be there when the band gets there.”

The smaller woman shuffled her feet as Bethany passed him a look of apology. There was something else in her gaze: longing, perhaps even sadness. And he only noticed because he felt it too. A decade or more lay between them, and yet he didn’t feel so old just then with a flutter in his stomach and an ache for something more.

She nodded, still looking at Teagan as she murmured, “yes” as before turning back to her friend. “We can go now if you want.” There was a subtle shake to her head - disappointment, he thought - and the recognition sent a pleased thrill through him. He felt an overwhelming need to give her a new label. Woman: Bethany Hawke.

“Does your _friend_ want to come?” Merrill looked at him expectantly and he could hear the suggestion in her voice. His lips crooked into an awkward smile as he tried to avoid her inquisitive look.

There was a sharp noise from Bethany, “Merrill! Ah. No.” Her head shook quickly. “This is Professor-”

“But, I thought I saw-” 

“Professor. Teagan. Guerrin.” Bethany said putting a hand on Merrill’s shoulder. 

Teagan felt a sting of fear at hearing his title so matter-of-factly from Bethany’s mouth. He swallowed hard, staring at Merrill and wondered if tomorrow he’d be called into his brother’s office. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath with a silent prayer that he hadn’t just made a huge mistake. 

“Oh. Oh!” Merrill chirped. “Okay!” He opened his eyes in time to see her flash Bethany an impish smile. “Well, anyway-” she waved a hand- “does he... do you... want to come, Professor?”

“I doubt that he-” Bethany looked at him uncertainly. “I doubt that he wants to go to a college party, Merrill.”

Teagan pulled the cuff of his sleeve and jacket back to look at his watch as if he were actually considering going to just such a party. At a co-ed house of all places. The time surprised him: he’d been at the bar for four hours - and the faculty party hadn’t been more than an hour and a half of that. Some time alone before Bethany approached him and then... 

He wondered just how long the two of them had been hooked together. He had no concept of the time they could’ve been that way- or how much longer they could have lasted. A great deal of time, by the looks of his watch. That also meant it was very late and very dark and he was pretty sure that the house Merrill had mentioned was almost two miles from the bar. 

“You’re planning to walk over?” he asked and looked between the two of them.

They both nodded, Merrill so excitedly that the short spikes of her hair bobbed with the movement. Bethany was calm but raised an eyebrow as if to ask him what he was thinking.

“It’s almost one,” he said. “If you’re planning to go, why don’t you let me drive you over?”

It wasn’t strictly a kindness that he offered. Teagan knew he wasn’t really ready for Bethany to go off into the night with her friend. If she did, he knew that tomorrow he’d wake up with a whiskey migraine and the regret that came with remembering he’d kissed one of his students - no matter how much he’d wanted to - and wanted to do it again. A part of him cringed once he’d made the offer, afraid that Bethany would decline; that the kisses had been borne only of vodka and pity.

When she smiled at him and hopped from her barstool, a hard knot of anxiety that had planted in his stomach uncoiled. 

“That would be great, Te- Professor.” 

“Great!” Merrill smiled wide, something that almost reminded him of the way Eamon smiled when a plan had come together. She patted Teagan on the shoulder, and he did his best to ignore the touch while he grabbed a few bills to cover a tip, and tossed them up on the bar.

Distant only by inches, he followed the two young women out of the bar, acutely aware of both the lack of space between them, and the few quizzical looks that were cast his direction. If anyone recognized him, they did not stop him to say so. Bethany and Merrill chatted, leaving Teagan to consider his possibly incredibly poor decision to offer them a ride. Though he could excuse it with consideration for their well-being, a point that made fine sense, the box of Bethany Hawke: woman, was overloading his better judgement.

Teagan’s car was no fine specimen of Fereldan manufacturing but after nearly a decade with the same vehicle he was attached to it in a way that truly irritated his brother. Or maybe it was only the Eamon’s irritation he was attached to. Either way, it was clearly in need of an overhaul, as it needed new wheel covers to replace the missing ones, as well as new paint and a new windshield. But it ran smoothly and he kept the interior spotless. The exterior he’d only let go once he knew he was going to have to move away from Redcliffe. It was the most disorganized thing about his life, the exterior of his car - a little sporty thing he’d bought in younger days - but there seemed to be something that fit in keeping it the way he did- or didn’t in this case. It was the face he presented first to the other teachers, and, much like the clothes he wore, it was something that said (he hoped) that he wasn’t as stuck-up as his brother.

Teagan opened the passenger door, pulling the seat forward and looking to the ladies with a wave of his hand to invite them inside. Merrill didn’t hesitate to crawl into the backseat, making little appreciative ‘ooohs’ as she did. He didn’t know what made it so interesting, but he didn’t ask for fear of getting an earful on the way to the Chanter Devon House. He might not have known Merrill for more than a few minutes, but the way she flailed about excitedly and spoke as though she hadn’t bothered to spare a thought for her words first made it pretty clear that if he questioned her, that was what was in store.

As soon as he pushed the passenger seat back, Bethany started to get in without waiting for him to move. She brushed against him, putting her hand against his chest to steady herself. Her hand dropped from his chest as she slid down into the seat and for a brief moment she caught his hand, wrapping her fingers around his and giving a quick squeeze. Teagan swallowed hard, and squeezed back awkwardly, pressing her fingertips between his fingers and thumb. It was the best he could do with the way his head sort of buzzed. 

He hadn’t had enough alcohol to be drunk, or to be a hazard on the road, but he contemplated using it as an excuse, as well as several other scenarios, to get out of driving the two women down the street. As he closed Bethany’s door and walked to his side of the car, he took in several deep breaths and lifted his head towards the cool early morning breeze.

Sliding into his own place behind the wheel, he made himself a promise. The drive to the Chanter Devon House was the end of it. He would drive them there, drop them off and go home. There would be no more kissing of students, a promise not difficult to keep except where it concerned Bethany Hawke. 

It made him feel better to put into words- or more accurately, a list- in his mind that clearly stated the things Teagan Guerrin was not going to do. It was clear that the list included _Inappropriate Interactions with Students_ needed to be amended, giving Bethany her very own place on it.

Things not to do (a list, amended for the evening): _drink anymore whiskey, give rides to students, kiss Students, kiss Bethany Hawke_ or _kiss Bethany Hawke_ (listed again, for emphasis).

“So Professor... Guerrin?” Merrill leaned up between the seats at the first stoplight. “What do you teach?”

“Merrill!” Bethany turned and swatted her friend’s hand away from the seat. He couldn’t see her expression, but she sounded shocked. Or perhaps offended. 

“Sorry. Oh! History, that’s right. Sorry... sorry Beth.. I forgot, and I was just trying to make conversation.” 

Teagan glanced up at the rear-view mirror to see Merrill leaning back into the darkness of the back seat, though she wasn’t hidden completely. He felt a little bad for her and then a little annoyed at himself for feeling bad. He shook his head.

“No harm done,” he said, glancing over at Bethany. “It is a rare thing when my own students remember what classes they’ve taken with me.” 

There was a chuckle from the back seat and Teagan gave a quick smile to her dim reflection in the mirror as if to say, _no hard feelings._

“I know,” she replied with hint of amusement. Then Teagan heard her take in a deep breath and she turned in her seat, focusing on Merrill. “I didn’t mean it, Merrill, I’m sorry.” She waved a hand in Teagan’s direction. “You remember I’ve told you that I am Professor Guerrin’s Teaching Assistant. He is the _Theirin-Aeducan Regius Professor of Medieval History and Civil Studies_.” 

Teagan could hear the capital letters in his full title as it rolled from Bethany’s tongue. She’d only forgotten the parenthetical _Ferelden_ at the end, though he had no doubt she knew it belonged there. He felt strangely proud at how quickly she could rattle the whole thing off, instead of annoyed at how it reminded him of the strings Eamon had pulled to get him the job in the first place.

“I’m sure she doesn’t need all that,” he said. He wasn’t chiding her, just embarrassed at how pretentious it made his job sound- especially coming from Bethany who had taken on so much of his work in the past years. “History professor works just fine.” 

He felt Bethany shift again, leaning back into her seat with a roll of her shoulder- something like a shrug he presumed by the sigh she gave him. 

“History professor is at least a little easier to say in a hurry,” Merrill commented. “And I don’t think I could ever remember all that.” 

“I don’t really expect anyone to.” As he pulled up to another stop he lifted a hand to gesture towards Bethany. “Bethany excepted, of course,” he added, lips tugged into a small, proud smile.

“What does all of it mean anyway?” Merrill leaned forward again, head close to Bethany’s shoulder. At least this time she took care to keep her hands of the front seats.

Bethany began, “Well, _Theirin-Aeducan_ means that Profess-” 

Teagan shook his head. “It’s a very fancy way for the University to make sure everyone knows that my position was paid for with generous grants from some very well-known people.”

“And Regius?” Merrill asked, awe creeping into her voice.

“That his position was created by royalty,” Bethany said before Teagan had the chance to get the words out.

“Ooooh.”

He shook his head again. “Really, it’s not that interesting.” Just to change the subject from the two of them talking about him, and to sate his own curiosity he asked, “Are you a first year, Merrill?”

“Oh, yes. Is it obvious?”

Teagan kept his response silent by leaning forward to concentrate on the road. There wasn’t much to see at that time of night, but he pretended it held all his attention. 

To his great relief, instead of having to answer the woman in the back seat, Bethany chimed in. 

“Merrill spent a few extra years at home before she came to the University.”

“Ah. Well, I wouldn’t expect you to know all the possible titles a professor can have, Merrill,” Teagan said.

Youth would’ve better explained her easy excitement and naivete, but his years as a professor had taught him that it took a lot more than age to make a mature student. But even at the end of her first year of University, she could hardly be expected to know the full titles of all the teachers.

Bethany turned briefly in her seat again. “Professor Guerrin is the only Regius at our school. I doubt many other students know that. Or what it means.” Just at the edge of his line of sight, he saw her shoot him a brief grin, which made his mouth curl up in response. 

He gave a quick nod of his head. “That’s the truth.”

After that, there was a long silence in the car while Teagan drove them down the next few blocks. He caught the smile and pressed his lips together to rid himself of it. His grip on the wheel tightened and he relieved himself of the idea that he was anything more than a ride for the two of them. If he did, then Bethany’s smiles, her kisses... they were easier to pack away. But for the first time that night, he found the silence more nerve-wracking than the conversation.

When Merrill spoke up again, Teagan was so lost in his own thoughts and the repetition of the lines of the road that he jolted up in his seat.

“There isn’t a King or Queen in Kirkwall... so how did-”

Teagan took a breath before he could answer, and Bethany was just a little faster to jump to an answer, cutting Merrill’s question off. “He’s from-”

“I used to-”

“Oh! Theirin!”

Their voices jumbled together, but Merrill, who was obviously more excited, drowned out both Bethany and him. He considered the top of her head in the rearview, as that was all he could see with her leaned so far forward, and wondered how much she knew of the Theirin line- and which of them had sparked her memory. 

“Have you been to Ferelden, Merrill?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I grew up there. My grandmother Marethari moved here after...” Her voice trailed off and after a moment it was clear she had let go of whatever she’d been about to say. It was the most calm she’d sounded since he’d met her, but it came with a sadness in her voice that decided him against further indulging his curiosity. No matter how much the name Marethari prodded at a memory he couldn’t quite latch on to.

Bethany didn’t offer up any information and the three of them lapsed into silence again, but it was less heavy than before. They were close now to the House, and Teagan could see lights in the distance, accompanied by a soft thrumming sound that grew louder as he turned the car down the avenue. The feeling reminded him of his kiss with Bethany- how warm and soft it had been, how coupled with the reverberations of the drums in the bar it’d felt like the touch of her hand could have pressed right through him.

He swallowed the memory away as he pulled the car to the curb at the far end of the block. “Looks like there’s still a lot of people,” he commented more to himself than to either of them particularly. “I can drop you in front of the house if you’d rather?”

The Chanter Devon House, more colloquially referred to by the students as the Chi House, was one of the oldest Tevinter Letter Organizations at the University of Kirkwall. It had only been co-ed for a few years, and from what Teagan had heard the fight to make it so had been a long and bitter one. It helped of course that one of the founders

Bethany let out a heavy sigh, “This is fine, Professor.”

Teagan nodded and parked the car, quickly moving to get out so he could open the door for Bethany and Merrill. He waited as they got out of his car, stepping around the door to push the passenger seat back into place once they were both out of the way. 

He still had his back turned when Merrill said, “Thanks for the ride, Professor!”

“My pleasure, Merrill-” he turned- “Bethany.” He nodded to them as he shut the door. 

It wasn’t that he wanted to just leave them there on the sidewalk, as though nothing had happened between he and Bethany at the bar. But if the ride had been good for something other than getting them to the party safely, it was that he’d had the time to remember that they were still students, even if for Bethany it was only for another two months. 

He took a breath and nodded again as he took a step to make his way back around his car. 

“Have a good evening, ladies. Enjoy your party.”

“Professor-” Bethany took a step after him.

He kept walking, his head down. 

Merrill said, “Thanks again, Professor! Ready to go, Beth?”

Bethany was following him, and he heard her say, “You go on ahead, Mer. I’ll meet you inside in a minute, okay?”

Teagan had no idea what to say to her if she intended on to talk about what had happened. Or saying anything more than _thank you for the ride_. This was why he kept his life separate from students. Or from any real social engagements- he wasn’t very good at figuring out how to handle them. Categorizing people was easier than interacting with them.

“Okay. Come and find me when you’re ready.” A moment later she pivoted and made her way towards the party with her arms swinging freely at her side. 

He and Bethany watched her go, it was easier than studying what he could see of Bethany’s face in the early morning light. And yet the noise was not enough to keep his thoughts at bay, and his glance strayed. Of course, she was still there and when his eyes slid over her face, her amber eyes were already trained on him. 

Bethany’s face was pinched with a sort of wide-eyed wonder as if there were no words she knew how to speak, but wanted to say them all at the same time. He knew the feeling. All the words at his disposal and he couldn’t find one that said he didn’t know where to go from here. Aside from: home. It’s where he should’ve been tonight. Yet when he even thought of missing the kisses that had passed between them, it felt like a hole opened in his chest letting all his breath out.

“So,” Bethany said. There was an emptiness in her voice, air released but not expressed.

“I-” Teagan turned away and looked at his still open car door. “I should go.”

“I should go.” Bethany had turned away, with a hand gesturing towards the party. She looked back to him as their words overlapped and her lips hosted the barest hint of a smile before she dipped her head and chuckled. 

Teagan let out a strangled joyless laugh. A multitude of choices spread out before him like the thin hallways between bookshelves in the oldest wing of the University library. The well-lit path at his feet was to invite Bethany back, he could take her- well, he didn’t know where they might go, in the car and down the block, his house, anywhere but the party at which they found themselves. Far to the side of him, the darkest of them all was the path he knew he was supposed to follow. The one that led him back into his car and home. 

Alone.

He put his hand on the corner of the door and shuffled his feet to force them forward. 

“Prof- Teagan,” Bethany reached out a hand, finding his free arm. Her fingers slid down until she was picking up his hand in hers. His hand did not curl around hers, but she held it and stared down at it as though it were a foreign thing. “I enjoyed tonight.”

He lifted his head, watched his hand, then hers; he swallowed and his throat felt raw.

“If this were my dorm,” Bethany said, “I’d ask you to stay.” 

“I shouldn’t.” He shook his head and though he couldn’t say it with any real certainty he added, “I wouldn’t.” Her dorm, her room. Not just any University dorm room, but _hers_. He wondered what Bethany kept on the walls and the bookshelves in her room, or if she had a roommate. Maybe she’d mentioned someone before, if she had he could not remember it now. Whatever her room was, however it was decorated, it was not a place for an instructor but a place for studying, and friends.

“Oh.” Her hand dropped away from him and she sighed. 

Teagan hadn’t meant for his words to sound harsh. In fact, he felt as though they’d been anything other than definitive; telling her no was the most uncertain he’d been in a long time. The look on her face, the disappointment so evident there, made his chest tighten. The sound of that one word- was it a word?- “ _oh_ ”, summed up his own feelings exactly.

He watched as she toed the grass with her dark shoes, and then with an exhaled a sigh he spoke words he hadn’t meant to say. “That’s a lie.” With that admission, the rest seemed easy enough to say-

“I’m lying. Bethany, what I mean to say is not that I wouldn’t. But that I would. I enjoyed myself more than I should and I don’t think it’s appropriate for...” 

“I’m a student.” Her head bobbed with what he hoped was understanding.

“Yes,” he said, shoulders sagging on an exhaled breath. “And-”

“Your brother is the Dean of Students.”

“Yes.” He nodded.

He looked up at her, finding her face mostly hidden in shadows, but he could see the sadness in the way her eyes searched his face. He was intrigued by the question of how closely she’d been watching him. Did she always stare at him so, and only now was he seeing it? This wasn’t the first time she’d finished his sentences, she did so daily; Bethany was always prepared. She already knew his excuses. Perhaps she knew his mind better than he did. She had read to him, had graded his papers, had edited his lessons and the papers he wrote for research, for four years. Of course she knew how he thought. 

Somehow he thought this might be different.

It wasn’t. 

“I’m sorry, Bethany. I _want_ to--” he sighed, “--more than I can say.” He wanted to say something about how close graduation was. How that if she really wanted this stodgy professor, that maybe waiting was a good idea. It would give them a chance to think about things.

He didn’t say any of those things. Instead he fumbled again and repeated, “I want to. I just--”

“Won’t,” she finished with a heavy huff of frustration. She shrugged and while he watched, her face shifted and hardened as she an expression into place that replaced her sadness. Something that said she didn’t understand but she knew how to pretend. 

_And wasn’t that what I asked? What I wanted?_

It hurt to watch. 

In the distance, someone caught his eye - approaching quickly and with a set to their steps that said they were headed directly for him and Bethany. He took a step towards the car and nodded his head. 

“You must have more than Merrill waiting for you,” he said.

Bethany turned to follow his line of sight. He watched her straighten, shoulders tense, and she frowned as another figure joined the first one. They were closer now and Teagan could tell that both figures were men. Large, broad-shouldered University students if the jackets were to be believed. Footballers, he thought as they strode close enough to move under one of the streetlights.

“Beth!” One of the men raised a hand as they approached. 

Teagan realized they were too close to make an appropriate getaway, and instead he shifted his weight, and took his hand off the car door to pull his keys from his pocket. Bethany moved as well, taking a few steps away from him, towards the men. Maybe it was only what he wanted to see, but her steps seemed hesitant, as though she wasn’t ready to leave him, or their conversation.

“Carver,” she said as one of them approached. 

The man wrapped her in a hug and then he took a step away from her, but it was close enough that Teagan could see the way the man’s eyes slid over him. Appraising. Judging. He tried not to shrink under the gaze of a University student, but years of teaching had prepared him for this kind of situation. For that, he was grateful. Carver, as she’d called him, had dark hair and several good inches of height on Bethany. The other man joined them a few seconds later, a man smaller than Carver by only an indecipherable amount, but just as wide and with blonde hair that curled over the collar of his University jacket.

“It’s good to see you,” the other man said as he wrapped an arm around Bethany and planted a kiss on her cheek. 

“We saw Merrill inside and she told us you were out here.”

“And you’ve found me,” she said. “I was just thanking... the Professor... For the ride he gave Merrill and I.” Teagan could hear the waver in her voice and wondered if the other two men heard it also.

Carver took a step and held his hand out for Teagan, “Yeah, Merrill said you gave them a ride. Gotta thank you for keeping them safe.”

Teagan shook Carver’s hand, “It was nothing.”

“Not nothing. If I can’t be there to keep my little sister safe, it’s good to know someone was watching out for her.” Carver nodded at him. 

Teagan felt a little part of him relax with the news that the dark haired man was her brother. With it, he could almost see the slight similarities in their features and guessed in better light, they might be even more striking. There was still the other man to wonder about, but it was one mystery solved. Bethany smiled at Garrett and then pushed against his chest. “We’re the same age,” she said with a shake of her head. “And like you really would’ve left the party to come and get us.” 

“If you’d really needed me.” Her brother swatted her hand away and then looked at the other man. “Or he would’ve.”

The blonde man nodded, “You could have called, Bethany. I would have come to pick you up if you needed a ride.”

“I wouldn’t bother you like that.” Bethany turned and looked at Teagan though her eyes were cast down, somewhere about his chin. “Professor Guerrin, this is my twin brother Carver. And this is my... friend, Cullen.”

_Friend._

_More than friends_ , he could hear the words as plain as if she’d actually said them. His lips pressed together for a moment before he nodded again. “Carver. Cullen.” 

He didn’t recognize either of them, though there weren’t a lot of footballers in his classes - well, not a lot that stuck around long enough for him to take notice anyhow. Still he narrowed his eyes and looked between them as if trying to place them. Carver Hawke. Maybe he’d heard Bethany talk about him before, but the name rang a bell in his head as though he should know it. 

“Well. She’s delivered safe and sound,” Teagan said. He forced a pleasant smile on his face, something open-mouthed and affable, something he’d seen his brother do a thousand times before. “I should be on my way.”

“Thanks Professor,” Cullen said. “Someone has to make sure my girlfriend isn’t on the road by herself at two in the morning.” He swung his arm back around Bethany’s shoulders and flashed a toothy grin. 

_Girlfriend._

He turned in towards his car and looked down at his driver’s seat. “No problem.”

Bethany huffed. “Cullen. I’m not. He’s-” Shrugging out from under Cullen’s arm she gave an exasperated sigh. She fixed Cullen with a sharp look and folded her arms over her chest. 

“ _Ex_ -boyfriend.”

Cullen shook his head and look properly chastised as he said, “I know.”

At that, Teagan looked up again. He knew he shouldn’t have and ultimately it didn’t matter if she had a boyfriend or not. It wasn’t like he was auditioning for the position. And yet his heart surged a little at the idea that she didn’t. 

“Give the guy a break, Bethy. He just misses you.” Carver clapped Cullen on the shoulder and shook his head. 

“And on that note,” Bethany said with a roll of her eyes in Teagan’s direction. “I’m sorry about them.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “I really should go.”

“No-”

“Good to see you, Professor,” Carver said with a wave. “And thanks.

“Now come on little sister, let’s get you a drink.” Her brother tugged at her arm with a smile. His other hand pushed Cullen’s arm, rocking the man towards the party. Cullen gave a playful shove back, but took a step away from them, looking towards the house behind him.

“Uh....” Bethany looked at Teagan and then her brother. Carver looked at her expectantly and stuck out his chin as if to goad her into moving. She sighed. “I... uh. Thanks, Professor. I’ll... I guess I’ll see you on Monday.”

Teagan took a breath, searching for something that would convey the gravity of the conversation they were missing as she was led away. He couldn’t find anything. Even if they had another minute. Or another five. He didn’t think he was going to find anything to tell her what he hadn’t already said. What she didn’t already know.

“Right. Monday.” He nodded. And then, without looking back he slunk down into his car and pulled the door closed.

He didn’t waste a moment between putting the key back in the ignition and pulling his car away from the curb. Every part of him was eager to put as much space between that party and Bethany as he possibly could. As he drove away there was motion out his window, he blinked hoping it was just his imagination. But when he saw it again, he slowed and turned his head to look. 

Bethany. Alone and following his car as he approached to the Stop sign at the corner of the street. In order to get to the car, she’d have to cross the street. There was a split moment in which he could not decide whether or not to stop. He took his hands off the wheel and closed his eyes through a deep breath.

When he opened them, she had not moved to cross the street. Perhaps, he thought, she was as torn as he. And if they could not be decided, Teagan wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. 

In his rearview, Bethany looked younger than she had all evening. He could barely make out her features in the early morning light, but she seemed small and faraway. Another block and she was just a vague outline, the shadow of a memory he couldn’t quite shake. 

She had loving friends and family, a boyfriend - former or otherwise - that cared for her still. These were the things that occupied his drive home. Bethany had only a few weeks left before she left him for the wider world. One night, a few kisses: these were not the basis of anything longstanding and it was better if that was the end of it. Monday, he intended to work as normal, to give her papers to grade and assignments to complete just as he always did.

If they refused to acknowledge that it happened at all, they would survive the remaining weeks. By the time Teagan arrived at his own small, quiet, lonely apartment he had filed Bethany away in a new box made just for her:

**Of All those Bereft:** Bethany Hawke.

**The End?**


	2. I Cry Your Mercy—Pity—Love!—Ay, Love!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Hysterical Literature [[link](http://www.youtube.com/user/claytoncubitt?feature=watch)]

  
**I cry your mercy—pity—love!—ay, love!**   
_I cry your mercy—pity—love!—ay, love!_  
Merciful love that tantalises not  
One-thoughted, never-wandering, guileless love,  
Unmask'd, and being seen—without a blot!  
O! let me have thee whole,—all—all—be mine!  
That shape, that fairness, that sweet minor zest  
Of love, your kiss,—those hands, those eyes divine,  
That warm, white, lucent, million-pleasured breast,—  
Yourself—your soul—in pity give me all,  
Withhold no atom's atom or I die,  
Or living on, perhaps, your wretched thrall,  
Forget, in the mist of idle misery,  
Life's purposes,—the palate of my mind  
Losing its gust, and my ambition blind!   
**~John Keats~**   


**Its Loveliness Increases (an Epilogue)**

An entire Monday came and went and Professor Guerrin made no mention of what had happened the Friday before. Bethany inquired once, and only once. His response would only have been more bizarre and confounding had he given it to her in a letter. In fact, it made more sense when she imagined it scrawled on a piece of University stationery, folded and sealed with a wax stamp. She knew he had to have one of those somewhere. 

Were she not the one that handled the majority of his mail, she thought he might have. As it was the clipped sound of each word and the way he made every effort to avoid her gaze as he spoke, made it clear to her that it was a practiced speech, something he had thought about and prepared. It was easiest to think about him toiling over a letter, thinking of her and their kisses, trimming away at his thoughts until he came to the few lines he said.

_“Bethany, I acted unprofessionally on Friday night. What transpired between us, should not have. I apologize for my behavior and hope you’ll forgive me. It would be best if we left it at that.”_

She knew him (or thought she did), he did nothing without careful thought. Four years as the TA for Professor Guerrin had taught her more about the man than how he liked his coffee and the color pen he preferred to use when he graded (or when she graded for him). His touch that night had not been fleeting, it’d had been hungry. The way he’d kissed her felt more than temporary. So too had the way his hands had grazed her waist, and how once his hand had come desperately close to her breasts. Part of her still felt as though he might complete that touch at any moment.  
It was not a night to be so easily dismissed. For either of them; no matter what he said to the contrary.  
When Bethany had mentioned it to Isabela, she’d teased. She did not reveal the professor’s name, or that he was a professor, just that a man had undone her in so few hours. Isabela had needled her mercilessly for his name, but on that Bethany would not budge. In the end, her friend had done what she’d considered the next best thing: bought her a small silver toy in a silk lined box, already prepared with batteries. Isabela had wasted no detail in telling her how best to use it, but Bethany’s imagination was quick enough to fill in the details on its own.

The professor was a perfect gentleman after their cold, brief, one-sided conversation about that night. For a month and a half he had only been an attentive professor, continuing to pretend that nothing, including that last conversation, had happened. But in that same time, Bethany became undone by nights where she replayed each of his kisses and exhausted herself with dreams of what could be.

She would’ve liked to have blamed Isabela for the idea. 

But the truth was that day in and day out she sat in Teagan’s office and daydreamed about what could go on behind closed doors. The truth was that she thought about it in her room too, silver bullet between her thighs. It was from those moments that inspiration had come to her, borne of the daily routines between her and the professor each afternoon. 

That... and the feeling that despite the usefulness Isabela’s thoughtful gift, it did nothing to sate the want she had for Teagan’s-- 

_"If I'm buying you a drink, you should call me Teagan-"_

Hands. Or tongue. Or Maker's breath, just a look from him that acknowledged that the night after the bar was still on his mind too.

There were still days until graduation, but this day would be her last as his TA. If it wasn't the day to throw caution to the wind, she knew she'd never find it. So, she packed her the toy - quiet and with just a single high vibration setting - in her bag and headed to his office.

He greeted her just as he did every day. "Good afternoon, Miss Hawke." 

The only variations in his greeting were on the days that she either arrived before lunch, or more than an hour late. Today, she was only minutes early, enough time that she could drop her things in his office, grab the small box from her purse and sneak off to the restroom before the Professor started working on his last lessons for the semester. She knew his schedule well enough that she managed to make it back to her desk before he flicked on the radio just on the other side of his computer screen. 

As she gathered several books in front of her on the desk, she mentally went through what he’d do next. She watched in her periphery as he did each of his tasks just seconds after she imagined them: sharpening three pencils, gathering his lesson plans in front of him, finding the folder in his desk drawer that held last year’s class final. 

He cleared his throat twice, then turned to her and asked, “Miss Hawke, if you please...” The professor waved his hand, clearly indicating the books in front of her. Four years as his assistant had made many of the instructions unnecessary and just as she knew the little movements and habits that made up his day, she knew that as soon as the radio started to play, it was expected she’d have a selection ready to read for him as he focused on writing. 

Most days, he didn’t care what it was she read, as long as it was more than fifty years old, and held enough story to keep him engaged. In the beginning, she’d thought it an odd habit, that he worked with so many possible distractions. It had only taken her about a week to realize that the more engaging the distraction, the faster he worked. She’d secretly envied him that motivational tool until, in time, she’d actually gotten used to the distractions and now found them almost as motivational. She couldn’t handle so many the way he could, or retain as much of them as he did, but she had learned to find their usefulness.

A few moments later as the music crescendoed, she pressed the tiny button in her pocket, crossed her legs and hoped that her idea didn’t turn into a ridiculous disaster. 

The first tingles of sensation sent shivers up her spine, but she knew the feeling well enough by now, from practiced evenings alone in her room, that it passed quickly. She picked up the closest book on her desk, a collection of works by John Keats. She knew that the professor had a penchant for poetry and if ever she was going to read something that was suggestive in the slightest, it was today. 

Bethany took a deep breath, thankful that with her legs crossed and the radio going, the buzzing between her legs was almost imperceptible. Except the part where she could feel it all the way to her fingertips and behind her ears. The breath steadied her enough that she was able to lean forward against the desk with the open book in her hands and start reading.

_“Upon a time, before the faery broods drove Nymph and Satyr from the prosperous woods.”_

She looked up between breaths to find Teagan face bent down, already scribbling notes on the pages before him. The first sentence seemed easy enough to read, but she hadn’t quite anticipated the difference in doing this for herself in the dark and quiet of her own room, and sitting in front of Teagan. It brought up memories of that night of the bar: his lips on hers, his hand on her lower back as he pulled her up against him. Bethany bit her lip as the first strong wave shot that through her, catching her breath in the moment it took her to shift in her seat. 

Teagan paused to tap his pencil against the paper, but did not look up at her. Bethany continued.

_“For somewhere in that sacred island dwelt a nymph, to whom all hoofed Satyrs knelt; at whose white feet the languid Tritons poured pearls, while on land they wither’d and adored.”_

A moment later, he returned to his writing and she swallowed between lines to steady herself against what she knew was building. Determined as she was, Bethany ignored what she could through the next few lines. Eventually, a line about Hermes’ golden hair curling over his bare shoulders had her squirming in her seat - once, twice - as she remembered (as she had many times) what Teagan’s hair had looked like in dim bar lights. It had seemed golden then, and she could not be honest with herself and say that she had not since imagined what he might look like without the thick jackets and button-down shirts. 

Bethany leaned forward to turn the page in an effort to refocus her thoughts when a new sensation shot through her. It was a strong wave, vibrations rang through her and she couldn’t help but draw in a quick, soft gasp. She licked her lips and bent her head over the book while trying to catch a glimpse to see if Teagan had noticed her lapse. There was a brief pang of disappointment in her chest when he didn’t look up, but an excitement doubled in her. A challenge was borne inside her: one that gave her permission to see her promised orgasm through to the end in Teagan’s office, whether he noticed or not. If her gasps did not garner his attention, then her moans would. Or her screams. 

She vowed when the moment came, she would not stay silent.

The poem mocked her:

_“From vale to vale, from wood to wood, he flew, breathing upon the flowers his passion new, and wound with many a river to its head, to find where this sweet nymph prepar’d her secret bed--”_

So also did her secret companion in this affair, twitching inside her. Instinct pressed her legs together, only heightening the sensation and she gasped again, trying to hide it by continuing the poem. Part of her was disheartened at how few lines she’d managed so far. Four years had polished her reading voice into something calm and articulate, something any speech teacher would be proud of. Yet she was already shivering, her voice wavering.

She resolved to find her calm, taking the next line very slowly. And the next.

Her words slurred on the line after that as she tried to speak through the teasing tingles that rippled through her. She felt it up to her scalp and fought to keep both hands on the book, above the desk and in sight of the professor if he chose to look over at her. By the time it swelled through her again, she’d managed almost another page where Hermes had begun to question the serpent, though her voice shook the entire time. Bethany gasped and it seemed loud to her; when she started the next word, her voice felt too breathy. 

So caught up in her focus was she that it took another line before she recognized that Teagan was looking at her. It wasn’t blatant, in fact if she glanced up between words, she saw him intent on the papers in front of him. But when she bent over the book and lifted her eyes to steal a glance at him as she braced through another wave, she found him doing the same. To be sure, when it happened again she let out the softest of moans between words. Bethany felt in control of her breath and her voice until Teagan shifted in his seat, and something in the set of his shoulders told her that he had finally lost focus on his work.

Still, he kept his pencil hovering over the papers before him and his glance turned down at his desk. And Bethany rocked through the next wave with an arched back and another soft moan, proud that she’d become a distraction, and not just fading background noise.

Knowing she had his attention, she forced herself to take longer, deeper breaths between passages, forcing a calm back into her words, wanting to draw on his attention. She wanted to be the show, she wanted to be the main attraction in his office, his eyes on her and not the desk or the papers on it. Her own movement became an ache in other parts of her: just the shift of fabric over her breasts made her more eager for a real touch.

_“Pale grew her immortality, for woe of all these lovers and she grieved so I took compassion on her--”_

Bethany exhaled slowly, her breath hitched and she moved a hand from the book to grip the edge of the desk. Teagan moved too, but she found it hard to retain focus, closing her eyes to ride the shiver up her spine. When it passed, she paused to find her place in the book and continued:

_“Bade her steep her hair in weird syrops, that would keep her loveliness invisible, yet free-”_

A sharp gasp, and she looked up from the book only to find her eyes locked with Teagan’s. Bethany moved her hand back to the book and bit her lip as she uncrossed her legs.

_“To wander as she loves, in liberty.”_

It felt like a miracle to finish the line. With her legs uncrossed, the buzz from between her legs grew louder, audible over the softening music and Bethany wondered if Teagan had turned the radio down and she had missed it. She didn’t venture a glance at him, vision already swimming as she struggled to stay contained and knowing that she wouldn’t be able to last much longer. 

Already she was fighting time against her best ability, and she smiled as she tipped her head down for the next line. Only when she took the breath she needed to start the next line, a moan escaped instead. She looked up, meeting Teagan’s gaze again as the sound grew and lengthened from her mouth. Bethany leaned, riding the sound and the feeling and soft pinpricks of cool air that drew themselves in a line between her breasts and up her throat.

If he kept looking at her like that, interested but separate, like she was an animal behind glass, she felt as though she might throw the book at him rather than keep reading from it. Even if she imagined it, there was a hint of a smile in his eyes and it was enough that when the wave passed she was able to turn her eyes back to the page. With a few long breaths and a few even longer - growing louder - moans, she managed the next few lines. 

Each time she had to stop, gasp, moan, breathe, she looked to her professor. To Teagan. Each time, he stared back at her, waiting for the moment to pass and as she promised, as she had challenged herself, she went back to the words on the page before them. If he smiled, she continued. If he did nothing, she continued. 

But no number of deep breaths, and calming thoughts could keep the inevitable from its arrival. His focused glances only made her move more, and each movement brought new pleasure with it. She was not so naive to think that he was blind to what was happening in front of him. But, even as she writhed under his gaze as the pressure in her mounted, she could also not be naive enough to believe that he would act. Not when she considered the silence between them in the past weeks.

Bethany’s legs trembled beneath her and while Teagan watched, she wanted nothing more than to lean back into her chair and put her fingers between her legs to finish the job she had begun. She wanted, and thus imagined, that he would get up from his desk and put his hands on her. That he would caress her face, her breasts, put his hand between her legs and finish her himself. Instead, she leaned forward, pressing her lips together and tamped down a silent gasp. 

Even though her tongue felt too thick for her mouth she read: 

_“An oath, and through the serpent’s ears it ran warm, tremulous, devout, psalterian.”_

Her resolved wavered with the thoughts of Teagan’s hands on her. That it was his fingers moving inside her and not a little silver bullet. She gripped the desk with a hand, leaning her other hand across both pages of the book. She looked up from half-closed eyes, her heart fluttering. 

She read:

_“Ravish’d, she lifted her Circean head, blush’d a live damask, and swift-lisping--”_

Bethany felt as though her skin might stretch and tear as she opened her mouth for the next word and groaned instead. It came from somewhere deep inside her, a sound she could not keep inside anymore than she could make it sound sweet and lilting, pure. Innocent. It was none of those things.

Even as her eyes fluttered and another moan worked it’s way free of her chest, she saw Teagan move. It wasn’t something simple or subtle. He rose from his chair and walked to the door in the time it took Bethany to work out the next word.

_“--said.”_

There was a click behind her that she didn’t have time to turn and investigate but recognized as the office door being locked. She arched her back, her other hand falling away from the book to grip the arm of her chair. Her hips twisted into the movement within her, the buzz louder as she moved. The book on the table threatened to close and it was Teagan’s hand, not hers that stopped the pages from falling closed. Bethany leaned her head back, her lips pressing together in a hum as she exhaled. 

Teagan leaned over her, eyes locked with hers as she rode the mind-numbing wave of her climax. She couldn’t concentrate on him, though she wanted to. More than that she wanted him to touch her, wanted to feel his hands on her as she arched up towards him. His hands stayed maddeningly at his side and she closed her eyes as a soft “yes” sounded from her lips. 

It was in the moment that she opened her eyes again, as her legs alternated between stretching and shaking, as her hands went to her thighs, as the finality of the orgasm shot through her chest and she opened her mouth to cry out-

Teagan caught her lips in his, swallowing the sound of her moan with a kiss.

She would’ve kissed him back happily, were it not for the shuddering orgasm that took her, body shaking as she came. Bethany found herself wrapped in warm arms and lifted from her chair. Her eyes stayed closed as the second wave came, with more swiftness but less violence and she leaned into a kiss as she let it break over her. When his hands found her waist, she arched her back and opened her eyes. 

Her legs still felt like jelly as Teagan swept the books off his desk and lifted her up in their place. Despite her release, her body ached for his touch, and just the slight slide of his thumb over her blouse had her pressing into his hands.

“Bethany,” he murmured in her ear. 

“Mmm?” Her eyes opened again and she pulled away enough to see his face. He held a book in his free hand, fingers splayed to keep it open to page. She focused on the page, to see the unfinished Keats poem. Unfinished by so. many. pages. With a smile she tilted her head and found the line she hadn’t finished.

_“I was a woman, let me have once more a woman’s shape, and as charming as before.”_

Teagan smiled and kissed her again, something warm and soft against her lips and Bethany sighed at the sensation. His tongue slid over her lips and she opened her mouth to him. That time it was his turn to let out a soft, pleased hum. 

He whispered against her mouth, “Very clever.” 

If he was pleased with the poem she’d chosen, or with how undone she was before him, she didn’t know. And she didn’t ask, too caught up in the fact that he was actually touching her, something she’d dreamed about many times since that night more than a month ago. 

Bethany’s eyes were closed as they kissed, but somewhere she heard a book slam to the floor near them and she imagined Teagan letting it fall from where he’d held it for her. Something about that was incredibly sexy, that he, organized and particular as he was, wanted her enough to drop a book to the ground without care. She giggled and looked up at him, imitating her best seductive smile as she writhed beneath him. Just because she was hot and sweating and still shaking from the wave of one orgasm did not mean that the vibrations inside her had ceased. 

She’d had no time, or wherewithal to push the button to turn it off. 

Her thighs pressed together, and she chuckled involuntarily as she grew warmer and her residual shivers kept her close to Teagan. She could feel how hard he was against her leg, a sensation that only wound her tighter, her hands stretching towards him. 

His beard scratched against her throat as he nuzzled against her hair, pulling her into a tight embrace. One of his knees pried her legs apart, and he straddled one, rubbing against her. Teagan used his knee to press between her legs, and the bullet which had slipped down with the movement from the chair to the desk, was slid back inside her. Bethany grunted at the increased vibrations and the sealed warmth between her thighs.

Teagan’s breath was ragged in her ears and he whispered to her, “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“I hoped-” she keened softly against his cheek. “I hoped that you would.”

“And then what, Bethany?” He tugged at her ear with his lips. 

His hands found the hem of her blouse, sliding under it and his fingers gripped her waist. The cooler air of the office on her skin sent a shiver up her spine that had nothing to do with the warmth floating through her. But, the combination of temperature had her gripping Teagan’s back with her fingertips. He rolled his shoulders as she dug into his jacket, the wool harsh against her skin.

“This,” she sighed. “This. I wanted this.”

“Me?” He asked with an exhale against her chin.

She shook, her stomach tightening with a strong surge as the bullet shifted and rounded inside her. Teagan moved his knee against her, and she slid forward to grind against him. His grip was firm as he held her against the desk, and kept her from sliding off the edge as her hips rocked up.

“Yes,” she moaned. “You. Prof-” she felt his fingertips dig into her, almost clawing their way up her sides, and she gasped. When he lifted her shirt with both hands, it was a swift, harried motion that ripped her hands away from him and leaned her back enough that she felt the slide of the vibrator. She pressed her legs hard against Teagan. She cried out, loud enough that a closed door would not keep the sound inside.

“Teagan,” she whispered when the moment had passed. It earned her another kiss and a slide of fingers over her breasts as he lifted them free of her bra, not bothering to remove it. 

His voice was little more than a growl as he asked, “Did you think I’d forgotten you?”

“No... but,” Bethany gasped as he bent down to swirl his tongue over her breast. He used his teeth lightly to tug her nipple. He looked up at her as he closed his lips over her breast, his other hand moving down, a feather light touch to find the edge of her skirt, and sliding underneath. Bethany shivered as goosebumps tingled over her belly and arms.

Her mind was lost as the pleasure overtook her, ecstatic that her plan had worked better than she could have hoped for, that Teagan was touching her, that each movement caused another blissful surge through her. 

“Every day,” he whispered. He hummed against her breast, a little sound of contentment as he swirled his tongue again and she arched up to him. 

“You thought about me?” She’d hoped for it, each time her hands moved between her own legs, but hearing it was a thrill. Bethany reached out for his jacket, and she struggled to push it off his shoulders. He lifted his hands from her just long enough to slip his arms out of the sleeves. She reached for his belt next, pushing at the leather and the buckle to find the button of his pants. When her hands went to his zipper, she had to sit up and push him away long enough to get it undone. 

“Every day.” 

His voice was so matter-of-fact, and Bethany lost herself for a moment to look up at him. His blue eyes had grown dark as his hands moved lower to push her skirt up over her hips. There was a dedication to his movements, an intent in his eyes that had her eager to continue. With his pants open, she reached in and wrapped her fingers around him. 

She let out a pleased and breathy, “Oh.”

He gasped as she leaned forward and slid her fingers down his length. Her movement had pushed the vibrator down and it knocked against the desk. Had she the breath to do it, she thought she might have giggled at the sound.

There was no time before Teagan’s hand moved from her waist to her knee. With a gentle touch he directed her legs apart and slid a hand between her thighs. He pulled aside her underwear and stroked a finger against her, finding the cord to the bullet and giving it a gentle tug. It sounded louder and then rattled against the desk as he pulled it free from her. 

Though many of the muscles in her stomach and shoulders contracted with the memory of what the vibrator did inside her, she sighed at the relief of cool air between her thighs. She reached down to her waist to find the other end of the cord, hitting the button to turn it off. Teagan chuckled and then let it drop into the chair she’d recently occupied. 

His hands went to her waist, leaving her skirt alone as his fingers walked under the fabric to the edge of her underwear. She lifted her legs around him, so he could pull them off. Bethany didn’t bother to keep her toes curled tight enough to keep her heels on and they clattered to the ground somewhere behind him. He deposited her clothes on the chair as well before turning his hands to his own clothes, but Bethany pushed his hands out of the way, pulling him closer by the waistband and reaching inside to wrap a hand around him. She let out a pleased laugh at the realization that the professor, in all his well-groomed, button-down appearance, wore no underwear of his own.

She lifted her eyes to his as she pulled him free of his pants, stroking again with a feather-light touch and pleased to see his mouth round into a silent gasp. His eyes went hazy as she focused her attention, letting her fingers stroke the underside of him, and her thumb rolled over the tip, back and forth and around. As she reached down to the base, hand grazing dark red curls, she tugged lightly and leaned back, guiding him to her. She was more than ready for him- had been ready before she’d even begun her erotic experiment to get his attention.

Teagan let out a soft growl as he moved closer and she let her hand fall away as he spread her thighs apart, standing between her legs. He positioned himself, taking his time and watching her as he let his hands caress between her lips, rubbing to make her squirm just before slowly pushed himself inside her. 

After the orgasms she’d already had, just the first thrust from him - and there was more of him than she’d honestly expected there to be - Bethany felt like she might melt in a boneless mass of contentment before they could finish. She didn’t know if she said his name, but her mouth was open as he leaned down and kissed her. It was wet and needy, his tongue sliding over hers. He rocked his hips back and thrust into her again with a strength that made the desk creak under her.

He squeezed one of her breasts and then stroked down over her nipple with his thumb, rough skin eliciting a wave that started from his next thrust and warmed her skin all the way up. Her head fell back, eyes closing, and his lips moved to her throat. He licked down to her collar, humming as he rocked into her again. Bethany couldn’t keep her hands on him, choosing to steady herself on the desk instead. She gripped the side with one hand and laid down completely over whatever paperwork was behind her and held the other side of the desk behind her head. 

“Bethany,” Teagan moaned against her other breast. He slid his tongue around her nipple, sucked it between his lips and then let go with a soft breath against her cool, sensitive flesh. He growled low. “Fuck. You don’t even-” His breath went ragged. 

She had only a moment to consider the few times she’d heard him curse before, even though it was absolutely the wrong moment to get caught up in such a thing. Bethany looked up, a thrill going through her at how he stared at her, how undone he was by her. 

“I’ve wanted you,” he said meeting her gaze for a moment before they were both consumed by sensation. And she closed her eyes, melting at how much those words meant to her.

It was not an answer, but a plea for him to continue when she murmured, “Yes. Yes.” With heavy sighs she tried to hold out for him, having already come twice while wrapped his arms. Each deep breath she took, each time she held out the feeling built up inside her and she felt herself get heavy, like she might sink into the desk underneath her. Relax, became yes, more, “faster, Teagan...” with heavy breaths and drawn out vowels. 

She felt all of her muscles contract, coiled tight as a spring, as his hands went to her waist and bore down, fingertips digging into her skin. He guided himself in and out of her, clinging to her hips and lifting her ass off the desk for leverage. Teagan groaned and she could hear the desperation in his voice, and her own, unable as she was to keep the pleas from her lips for him to finish her again.

“Yes, oh--” Teagan hunched, his grip on her tightening. “Beth-- Bet--”

Bethany was cresting over with the sound of his voice, at the knowledge that they’d both longed for this moment. “Teagan,” she moaned. “I - please,” she keened and rocked her hips against him. He moved a hand to one of her breasts, squeezing hard enough to elicit another moan from her. His mouth was on hers, swallowing her breath with a kiss and muffling sounds of pleasure from both of them.

His thrusts were fast and hard, and each one felt as though there was no space left in her for him to fill. He grunted against her lips, his kiss hungry and encompassing. She heard the strain in his moans that came as he struggled with a word that could have been _Maker_ , or _Bethany_ , or just _god, yes, please_. She heard them all in her head, and with their lips locked they might have only passed them back and forth on shared breaths.

When it happened, her entire body felt as though someone had jolted her from toe to scalp, the spring in her releasing as she stretched and cried out. Her head hung back as new air tickled her throat. She could feel the spasms of her orgasm clenching around him, holding him inside her as if she was unwilling to let him go. And she could feel the twitch of Teagan, still inside her. 

Bethany smiled and let out a pleased sigh. It was the best she could do to break the silence around them now that the immediacy of the moment had gone. She felt good, like her “heart was beating in every pore” good. Resting on one elbow she pushed hair damp with sweat off her brow. Her eyes closed as she swept her hand over her face and when she opened them again, she found Teagan smiling down at her. 

“Bethany.” He slid one of his hands up over her breast and then continued farther up. His thumb stroked over the hollow of her neck and then moved to her chin, and her lips. She pressed her lips to his thumb. 

Even when she’d thought about it, and laid in bed and imagined all the ways that the Professor might have his way with her when she pleasured herself in his office, she hadn’t known how to imagine what would come after. If he’d be pleasant and soft with her. If they wouldn’t talk at all, or if he’d pretend, like he had with their kiss in the bar, that it never happened. Now that the moment was here, she still wasn’t sure how to react. She kept with the moments as they happened, hoping that nothing she did would draw them out of the happiness she felt.

Teagan was the first to pull away. His hand fell away from her lips, he leaned down to kiss her a moment after and she could feel the warmth of him sliding away. 

With him moving away, Bethany had to raise up off her elbow to keep from awkwardly falling off the edge of his desk. She let out a small chuckle as she wiggled her hips and pulled herself up so she was sitting. Teagan lifted his arm to her elbow as if to help her up, but it seemed difficult for him to meet her gaze directly. She swallowed and ducked her head as she stretched her toes towards the floor. 

Biting at her bottom lip, she braced for the moment he would snap back to his cold, organized reality: one that would be free of her as soon as she left his office.

Teagan cleared his throat and she felt his fingers tighten around her arm. “I, uh, I’m sorry, Bethany.” His voice was rough, but quiet. 

“It’s fine.” She turned away, shrugging her arm out of his grasp. If he was apologizing for what had just happened, she wasn’t sorry and he had no reason to be. Hadn’t she been the one writing in a desk chair just across from him? She had wanted it.

“No, not this,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “Before. I’m sorry about before. How I handled things was--” 

“Wrong?” _Awful. Maddening._

Teagan nodded. “Indeed.” He looked down, ashamed. 

Bethany reached for her clothes, thinking she’d feel much better having this conversation when she wasn’t standing in the middle of his office nearly naked. She wasn’t so much uncomfortable without her clothes, but vulnerable. And if Teagan was about to let her down, again, she’d rather he do it while she was dressed.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see him doing the same, though it took much less effort for him to get his clothes presentable again. They’d barely removed anything of his, at most, once his pants were zipped again he only look disheveled. Even with his office door locked and the shade drawn over the window, she still felt as though anyone could look in at any moment, and with the rush of excitement and adrenaline fading she was far more aware of how she must look.

As she pulled her bra back into place, Teagan walked over to her. She looked up just as he brought a hand to her arm and lightly caressed her with his thumb. 

“Bethany, you deserve more than this. Better than a simple apology.” His brow wrinkled, sincerity in his eyes and in the tone of her voice. “I acted horribly.”

“You did,” she said and then pressed her lips together as she reached down for her shirt. She wanted badly to forgive him. It’s okay, would’ve rolled easily off her tongue if she’d let it. But, no matter how she wanted him, his rejection had stung. If nothing else he was right about one thing: she knew that she deserved better. 

And with graduation only days away, he could not hide behind his excuses.

“I’ve never done this before, Bethany. I’m not quite sure I know how.” 

She shrugged away from his touch so she could put her shirt on and bit down the word, try.

He continued without her prodding. “Perhaps that’s why I resisted. I do not break convention so easily, as I think you are acutely aware. I’m particular. I try to be a good man.”

Softly she said, “You are a good man, Teagan. Just--”

She lost the words she was going to say as he interrupted her. When she glanced up again, it was clear there was something more going on behind his expression. It looked as though he was as much at war with himself as she had been.

“I exercised horrible judgement. Please let me make it up to you.”

Promising. “How?” 

“Can we start with dinner?” He raised his eyebrows hopefully and Bethany couldn’t help but smile. 

Perhaps she was giving in too easily, but everything about him seemed earnest. And her heart fluttered like it hadn’t before at the thought there could be something more between them. At least something more than a momentary affair on his office desk. With the thought, she turned to look at the mess they’d left, a quick smile forming as she saw how awful it all looked. Teagan followed her gaze, and joined in with a rumbling laugh of his own. 

“Dinner sounds lovely. Maybe after we set your office right again?” She looked down at her current mostly dressed state. Her underwear were still behind her on the chair, along with her toy that would need to be taken care of. “Or at least after I’m better attired for the public?”

From the corner of her eye she saw his head shake. “Dinner doesn’t have to mean we go out...”

She grinned. “What are you suggesting?”

“That my house is within walking distance.” He smiled and reached out to grab her hand. “I’ve been told I’m a fairly decent cook; I think I would very much enjoy making you dinner.”

Bethany had been to his house before, to drop off assignments or pick things up for class. But, she’d never been any farther inside than the front hallway. She was definitely curious to see if his house was as fastidiously kept as his office (or as his office was on days they hadn’t just had sex on his desk). For as well as she knew him, she had no idea what he was like outside of the office, with that one strange evening that had given her nothing but the knowledge that he liked whiskey and utter confusion about his feelings for her.

Then, she remembered something he had said and instead of answering his invitation she said, “Earlier, you said something.” She waved a hand towards his desk. “About not forgetting?”

He squeezed her other hand tight and his lips pressed into a wan smile. “I have thought about you, about that night, every day since. And... before, if I’m to be honest.”

“Before?”

A nod. “Before that night. You’re an intriguing woman, Miss Hawke.”

A thrill went through her. How long, she wondered, has he wanted me? Was it as long as she’d dreamt about him? Had he too, pictured what else they could’ve done on that desk? How else they could’ve spent their afternoon hours?

A soft giggle escaped her lips. “Intriguing.” She rolled her eyes at the word. “And now?”

“We start with dinner and see where the evening takes us,” he said calmly. He squeezed her hand.

“Dinner,” she echoed. 

Bethany gathered the rest of her things, shoving them inside her purse and then smoothing out her skirt to make sure that she could at least walk across the courtyard without causing a scandal. While she did, Teagan busied himself picking up the books that had fallen to the floor and stacking them on the edge of his disordered desk. 

When she was ready she looked him over and reached out to smooth down the collar of his shirt with a smile. 

“Shall we?” she asked.

He nodded and walked to the door, unlocking it and then holding it open while she walked out of the office. Following after, he pulled the door shut and locked it behind them. She heard him huff and saw his smile as he turned around to escort her down the hall. 

“What?”

He chuckled. “I was just thinking,” he said.

Prodding, she drawled, “About...?”

“That my office won’t be the same without you.”

**THE END**


End file.
